rarely talk to my family. I had a terrible childhood and teen life. I was punched in the eyes, had my babyteeth knocked out, kicked across the kitchen at 2 because I kicked my mother. Had a grandmother who weekly would was inside my vagina-she had two electshocks. and she watched me every Saturday night. I had urine track infections, but the doctor never told or notified anyone .
At five years, I was told by my mother that she hated me because I stole her husband as he called me his Valentine. I would cry myselfto sleep asking my mom to kiss me good night and she said I was to big to be kissed good night. My father was the same way. I was told by hiim that he was going to blow my brains out. Why because of my brother.Neither told me I was pretty or that they loved me. Years in my childhood were spent getting beat over the back with a Hoover canister rod, locked in the attic. etc. For childish things like the Hoover was for saying my newborn baby sister looked like a little monkey. As a 5 year old, I didn't know better. With my teen age years, my brother took over, I had long ago realized that I was smarter then my parents. I am not bragging. Because of being taught no personal hygiene, the girl setting next to me asked to moved from our double seat. I sat alone all 9th grade. My face broke out Which lead to my 15 year old brother Calling me a pimple face whore for years. No one said anything.One time my brother beat me to the floor sat on my stomach and beat the shit out of me, while my dad was screaming to close the windows so the neighbors coulodn't hear and my mother did. They sat in the dining room and watched. He kept screaming cry and I'll stop. I wouldn' give him the satisfaction of crying. As a result. I drove myself to the hospital, I had a cracked rib and all the fingers on my right hand were broken. I was 17 at he time and told my brother was drunk. Forget about it=he was drunk. there also is a film they showed my husband to be of brother beating me up outside. He broke my ankle. Again I drove myself to the hospital. At 18, my sister was diagnosed with a brain tumor. For my mother, life starts there.She was okay, but given anything she wanted. Trips to Disneyland, California. dance class. She was violent and again I was the scapegoat. Parents said nothing. She quit school as did my brother and I tutored her. I was getting married-dad said he had no money to pay for it, my mother took no interest in it Same with my college. Dean List's ripped up so to not make them feel bad, told not to marry as my husband thought he was better then them, he is. And told me I was unlovable. Constantly taking my parents to see brother and sister who were in mental facilities. Fast forward, I try to have a baby at 32, told I wasn't pregnant but going through menopause. I called my mom-her response what do you want me to do about it. We adopted a son at two days old. It took my parents 3 weeks to travel 10 miles to see him. When I visited them I was always aware of my brother, who had since been diagnosed as psychotic. My mother would tell my son I was a bad mother. I put up with it because I wanted him to have a family. Being raised Catholic, I was taught Honor your parents. My barbie's that I would sleep with when I was younger and made clothes for were given to my cousin, my pumpkin costume that i wrote about in the lounge,was thrown away. My wedding dress was thrown away. All my art work was thrown away. She lost interest in my son when she said BLM is a N group.She used the word and he asked to leave. We did. The last time I visited them was 2 years ago,with my brothers 30 cats, I told my mother I had to leave because of the smell. She was pissed. In August I wished my brother a Happy Birthday. All calls are on speakerphone so mom could hear. She told me I was mentally ill and an embarassment to her. All the other neighbors have children
who visit. When she saw it was getting nowhere, she went after my son, called him a bastard who his own mother didn't want, said he is a drug addict--that is why she didn't visit him. My dad did. And said i was an unfit mother. I called the following day and told her she broke my heart. No apology as her say is I don't apologize, I shit you out not the other way around. I hung up. She has not called ,and she won't. I won't be sorry when either of the dies. However, I am stuck with the house and brother and sister as she says I must take care of them. the house and all things relating to the house. She gaslights by saying that never happened or your thin skinned.I am so sorry for writing all of this. and for the spelling mistakes. But sometimes I wish I would go to sleep and never wake up my memories don't go away. What I told you is a sampling of the hell I lived as a child and adult. I had to end it.

As i wrote I have tears in my eyes. Like I said there is so much more. I always felt bad about my artwork being thrown out. My art is
my soul.

Please show us your art.

rotary phone over my head and tried to strangle me. But I continued to tutor her when I got out of the hospital. I am a survior.

"A Child Called It" is the first.

We will be pulling for you.

Whatever you wrote will
Be open for others to read. It’s a safer place that most but you still need to to be cautious.

Mint tea, a couple cloves of sautéed garlic, a couple daily walks and old movies are in my repertoire.

As a public forum this is not a safe place to reveal personal details that might allow someone to identify you, but otherwise people seeking support in this group are likely to find others who have had similar experiences.

There are experiences I don't talk about here on DU, but I will say I've got a PTSD diagnosis, major depressive disorder, and I've spent some time in locked psych wards. Over the years I've been prescribed many meds, some that didn't work, some that had side effects I found intolerable, and some that faded in their effectiveness. What works for one person might not work for others, which is why I don't talk about meds much. Nevertheless I do find meds helpful.

I haven't been posting much in this group lately and I'm a terribly lazy host. I hope that means my mental state is relatively stable at the moment. It's been my unfortunate experience that my ability to judge my own mental state is one of the first thing that falls away when I'm about to crash and burn.

At my worst I've quit seeing doctors, I've assumed I'm beyond help, and worse.

Enough of that... I do like to talk about myself.

Is your living situation stable? Are you in a safe place? Do you have nutritious food? That's always a good place to start.

Here's a group hug:



I'm intolerant of strangers or even most people I know touching me in real life, but I think virtual hugs are pretty nice.

Last edited Mon Nov 7, 2022, 09:22 PM - Edit history (1)

Started at 3 down to 1/2. My abusive family is nonpolitical so I don't feel they will see it, but thanks for the warning. Their thing is online gambling. HAHA

We are glad you found this place.

I'm glad you found this group.
I have a trauma history too.
Sometimes it feels like that shit never heals.

Do you have a talk therapist?
They are vital for dealing with trauma issues.If you do how often do you see them?

Welcome and I hope you find support and friends here.

appointment was on Tuesday. I have a pyschriatist for the meds and a psychologist to talk. I see both every 5 to 6 weeks.